


Suds

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 18:58:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11447034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Aragorn’s ‘gift’ finds its way to Legolas.





	Suds

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “13? [bubbles] With aragorn/legolas, something fluffy and/or smutty” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/) [from this list](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/162565904960/prompt-list-3).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Lord of the Rings or The Hobbit or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Even though Aragorn’s been here many times and the guards know him as more than just the ragged traveler he appears, they don’t make it easy for him to enter their prince’s chambers. The late hour probably doesn’t help, but Aragorn was detained by the King of the Woodland Realm, largely over his ‘intentions’ with that prince.

The implications of Aragorn’s present apparently spoke volumes, and though Aragorn tried to explain he meant it only as an innocent gift—a token from his people to the elves—Thranduil took much convincing. The present was ultimately sent ahead, and now, as Aragorn explains to Feren and Meludir, he only means to see that it was properly delivered. 

Eventually, they allow him entry, and he steps through the heavy doors, half wishing they’d just bothered to _knock_ —surely Legolas could’ve cleared this all up. But when Aragorn’s inside, he’s glad they didn’t go that route, for Legolas is nowhere to be found in the large, sprawling bedchambers. The doors to the walk-in closet on the left are closed, indicating that he’s not inside, so Aragorn heads right, towards the attached washroom. He raps against the small door when he’s approached, calling in, “My prince?”

 _“My king?”_ Legolas’ fair voice answers, lilting with the teasing pet name. If they were in the same room, Aragorn would likely roll his eyes. It’s things like that that don’t help his position with Legolas’ protective father, but then, a part of him does guiltily enjoy the illusion of allegiance. But then, he likes any way that Legolas addresses him. 

Aragorn calls next, “Are you decent?” And that seems almost a trick question; he half expects Legolas to reply that he’s never so.

Fortunately, Legolas takes it the way it’s meant—in regard to clothing, not lewd thoughts and inappropriate desires—and returns simply, _“Yes.”_ The wood only slightly muffles the sound. Aragorn reaches for the handle, twisting and pushing in.

He expects to find Legolas preparing for bed, perhaps dressed in a night robe, or even fresh from the bath, thoroughly wrapped in towels. Instead, he finds Legolas still _in_ the bath, the long tub in the center full to the brim and Legolas’ middle buried beneath it. Only his chest, face, arms and knees are visible, for the rest of him is shrouded in a cloak of buoyant bubbles, cast pearly white in the light of the candles about the walls and starlight through the lone window.

Aragorn’s first reaction is to blush, even though he’s seen Legolas more bare than this. Legolas is still uniquely _beautiful_ every time. His golden hair is now bundled above his head, a braid circling the bun and a few messy strands fallen loose, his pale skin lightly slicked with water and sporting stray bubbles here and there. His blue eyes glint mischievously, pink lips in a smile. Aragorn soaks in the view, then finally manages: “You claimed to be decent.”

“I am,” Legolas insists, his hands coming to scoop up some of the froth, “thanks to all these lovely bubbles you have brought for me.”

Aragorn can’t help his grin, and though Legolas’ delight warms him, he now wishes he’d chosen something with a more transparent coat. He admits, “I was not sure you would know how to utilize it, to be honest. I merely came to explain it to you.” Legolas lifts a brow, clearly not believing him. 

With a small chuckle, Legolas assures him, “My attends were confused at first, but they managed. Men are funny creatures, it seems, taking the fizz from wine and applying it to bathing. I think my father would approve, you know, although I am afraid I will grow jealous if I hear of you bringing him gifts as well.”

“I would never dream of it,” Aragorn promises. He does often bring gifts wherever he goes—small offerings compared to the hospitality he gains in return. But Legolas receives the only _intimate_ ones, chosen carefully for his own tastes and whatever Aragorn thinks will make him smile. Legolas stares at him another minute, reclining slowly back against the brim of the tub. Legolas looks exactly as luxurious as he is.

Then he murmurs quietly, “I did think it an interesting thing to gift a prince, though.”

Aragorn easily counters, “Not when one knows how very dirty that prince can be.”

Legolas’ grin stretches wide, and the allure of it only adds to his handsomeness. He purrs, “It is hardly my fault if grizzly Men break their way into my chambers, bearing treats or no. ...But now that you are here... I do hope you will come claim _your_ gift, my Elessar.”

“And what is that?” Aragorn asks, though he already has some idea, and he heartily approves. 

Sure enough, Legolas parts his knees, only to go a step further, lifting his delicate feet out of the water and hooking them over the rim of the tub, effectively spreading his legs in the air, though the bubbles hide the prize between. Seeing the slender curve of Legolas’ lower legs, down his lithe calves to the graceful dips of his ankles, is more than enough to set Aragorn’s imagination aflame. 

He drops his cloak to the floor and immediately goes forward to receive his gift.


End file.
